Yours to hold
by ipodder
Summary: Her eyes were determined, fists clenched, and he wanted to do nothing more than kiss her right now. But he knew he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, he wouldn’t. BL oneshot.


Lucas Scott was still typing on his laptop

Lucas Scott was still typing on his laptop. It was more of a ramble really, words that joined together. He uses writing as his therapy for what's been happening lately. God, he couldn't even write a damn poem, let alone a third novel that desperately needed to be written.

Peyton was still at the studio, doing some late night recording for Mia's highly anticipated sophmore album. She's been coming back late, Lucas noticed. She confessed to fearing the sophmore slump. But he saved the day by telling her that she was born to be great, and that he loves her. It was starting to get easy, too easy. He shrugged off those feelings, and cursed himself again for being a jerk.

It was 11pm. He was getting tired. Bags were dangling from his eyes. Eyes that hasn't healed since the day of Q's death. It's been four days since the funeral, and he still hasn't found the motivation to eat, shower or sleep. It was taking a toll on him, the scruff that Peyton once found sexy has become slightly unkept, but he persumed that she still found it incredibly irrestable. Because she's Peyton Sawyer, and she's obsessed with him.

The vibration of his cell phone startled him. He lowered the volume of his itunes and glanced at the caller ID. _BROOKE. _He frowned. For someone who has been a total recluse lately, it was weird that she would be calling at this time.

'Luke.' Her voice was tired and raspy. ' Can you come to the store, please?'

And he didn't know if it was his curiousity, his hero complex, or his boredom that enabled him to put on a jacket, shoes and made him race out the door. In truth, he didn't dare question his motives.

Brooke Davis was standing infront of her store, to his surprise. Whatever she was wearing underneath was covered by a black knee length trench coat. Her hair was messy, but soft, and her make up was minimal. But Lucas didn't have to squint to notice the gloss shining from her lips. Her bruises were fading, slowly, but it was promising. Under the dim light, she looked ravishing.

'You came.'

He was a little offended that her tone was laced with surprise.

'You sound surprised.' He stated.

She rolled her eyes.

'Can you blame me?'

_Ouch._

'What's up Brooke? Why'd you call me this late? Why not Peyton? Or even Jamie? He seems to comfort you well lately.'

Brooke nearly had to laugh at Lucas' unintentional jealousy of his own nephew.

And she echoed something she said to him a lifetime ago.

'Because I knew you'd come through.'

Lucas's eyes softened. But he was still unconvinced.

'Seriously Brooke. What's up?'

Brooke sighed. 'Luke, if I'm keeping you from finishing the Peyton Sawyer triology, you can just leave. I'm not forcing you to stay.'

Lucas Scott never really had a sense of humour. So instead of a hearty laugh, he squinted.

'What is that supposed to mean?'

Brooke rolled her eyes. 'God, I'm not here to discuss that Luke. Grow up. It was a joke.'

For a smart guy, Lucas sure catches on slowly.

'So why are we standing outside your store? I figured you were doing inventory and needed someone to fetch you some chinese or something.'

Brooke smiled sadly. 'I'm here to tell you the truth. You're here to listen.' She said, as if it was general knowledge, as if things could ever be that simple between them. Brooke and Lucas were always written between the lines, their relationship made up of hidden words, hidden gestures and stolen glances. Brooke and Lucas have never ever been simple.

Lucas nodded. 'Okay.'

Brooke grabbed her keys and turned the lock. 'Okay.'

As soon as the lights came on, Brooke winced slightly. Her eyes darted to the spot where she was severely beaten.

'So?' Lucas meant this as a question. But somehow he sensed that he didn't want to know the answer.

She stepped infront of him and untied her coat, revealing a matching black bra and panties. She let the coat fall to the floor and stared ito his eyes.

Lucas gulped. 'Brooke? What are you doing?'

Brooke smiled slightly. 'Don't worry broody, I'm not seducing you. I'm telling you the truth.'

Lucas frowned. This has gone completely bizzare, even for Tree Hill.

'See these bruises?' She pointed to her face.

He nodded. Feeling uneasy, but guilty for not caring much earlier.

She turned around so her arm was facing him.

'And these?'

Lucas nodded again. Not knowing what else to say, or do.

She turned around and revealed a huge bruise on her back.

'Do you still think I fell down the stairs?'

That question took him by complete surprise.

He tried to avoid answering, he suspected that something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He looked down, behind, towards the counter, anywhere but her.

'Get away from me Brooke.' He said. His voice ice cold, calm, distant, It scared him to hear himself talk. But it didn't seem to faze her.

She stepped in closer.

'Look at me.'

Lucas wouldn't budge. He kept his eye on the cash register, and noticed that something was missing.

'You were…' But he couldn't look at her, and he couldn't finish his sentence. Suddenly everything fell into place.

'Damnit Lucas, look at me.' Her voice broke and his eyes did too.

He turned away. 'I can't.'

She grabbed him by the shoulders, causing him to be trapped.

'I was attacked in my own store. The guy wore a ski mask and pushed me to the ground, punched me, kicked me, I'm sure he hit me with some kind of metal, but I was crying too much too notice.'

Lucas felt like throwing up. 'You're beautiful Brooke. But I can't look at you.'

Brooke whimpered. 'Yes. Yes, you can.'

Lucas jerked his head to face her, suddenly surprising himself.

'Why? Why do I have to?'

Brooke blinked back a tear.

'Because I need you to, Luke.'

Lucas felt like he wanted to push her, kick her for burdening him with this. He wanted to look at her so badly, but he couldn't stand seeing the pain on her body, and the dissapointment in her eyes.

'I don't know what you want me to do. What can I say to make you better? I'll say it. Please Brooke.'

Brooke cried. 'You still don't get it. God Luke! It's time for you to stop hiding behind your poetry, your grand exclamations, and take action for once! What do you want to do Luke?'

Her eyes were determined fists clenched, and he wanted to do nothing more than kiss her right now. But he knew he couldn't, he shouldn't, he wouldn't.

He wasn't sure if Brooke was dissapointed when he reached for a fierce embrace. The feel of her bra cladded shoulders was enough for him, for all his cluless-ness, he should be glad to get this much.

She sobbed violently into his chest, and he allowed himself to cry on her shoulder. It was hard to tell which tear belonged to the bubbly brunette and which belonged to the broody blonde.

'I've always been yours to hold, Luke.'

And when he couldn't think of a reply that would return the same sentiment, he simply held her tighter without worrying about her bruises. After all, Lucas Scott is now a man of action.


End file.
